


Just as the source of light is burning

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Firefly References, Kissing, Lithuania revisited, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sexual Tension, Transformation, becoming, dark!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: Hannibal once said to Will that blood and breath were only elements undergoing change to fuel his radiance. Will kept those words close to his heart, while he has undergone a tremendous transformation. Now, it's time for the final stage of his becoming.





	Just as the source of light is burning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ferris_Eris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferris_Eris/gifts), [abigail_frank](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail_frank/gifts).



> it was my sumbission for the Radiance Anthology but, unfortunately, i didn't make it :/  
> (nothing surprising)

Will woke up drenched in sweat, something he had experienced many times before. His whole body was shaking, overwhelmed by tremors. His heart was pounding and resonating in his ears. It had been a while since he woke up in the middle of the night due to a terrible nightmare. He was used to those nightly episodes and knew how to deal with them. However, after the fight with the Dragon, the visions of murder tableaus and vast collection of corpses faded away and were replaced by different, more recent images. They were the memories of Will’s victory over an “evil mind,” as Jack had once put it. Gradually, even the dreams became bleak and Will started descending into a black hole, instead. The emptiness, however, was no better than the nightmares. That night, just like many other nights before, Will was reminded of the vast power of his vivid imagination.

The shock was evident in the way he walked. On his way to the bathroom, he focused on the movement of his feet and barely registered anything more. Once inside, he blinked a few times, took a deep breath and tried to recover.

There was a huge mirror in his bathroom, which must have been in the manor for ages. It was made to last, since it was originally manufactured for wealthy and influential people. After so many years of negligence, the mirror became covered in dust and there were cracks in a few places; still, Will could see his reflection in it.

The man on the other side was covered in scars. Will had hidden them behind his hair and stubble but as he was looking in the mirror he realised that was not his true self. The true Will Graham had gone through hell and had the scars to prove it: one on his forehead – a testament to Hannibal’s forgiveness, one on his right cheek – a testament to his love for Hannibal. Those were the reasons to be proud of who he was, rather than to shy away from it.

Darkness engulfed the bathroom, since Will had not turn on any lights. Only the moonlight allowed Will to see anything at all. He opened a cabinet and reached for a razor – an action which was a direct consequence of his decision not to hide anymore. Quickly, he applied some shaving cream and let the blade remove his mask in hasty and imprecise swipes.

There he was – shaving in the middle of the night, one swipe after another, until he was completely lost in thought. A particularly sudden movement resulted in a cut and a beginning of a hallucination. As Will touched his neck to find the spot, he remembered holding Dolarhyde’s knife in his hand, penetrating the man.

The vision made Will bend in half, as he immediately felt the Dragon’s pain, one which was familiar to him as well. It was imprinted on his brain when, a few years prior, Hannibal opened up his bowels. Despite a long period of convalescence, Will believed that he would never recover from that pain. That the suffering was going to haunt him until the day he died.

After cleaning his face with a towel, Will noticed a strange light reflected in the mirror. Without hesitation, he turned his head towards the window. A wave of relief washed over him upon seeing the light was still there. It appeared as if the bright spot in the woods was on fire – the light was a mixture of red, orange and yellow. The only missing thing was the smoke. Swiftly, Will returned to his room, put on a pair of jeans, grabbed a coat, a knife and a flashlight.

The grass around the manor was thick, since no one took care of the property after Chiyoh had left with Will to Florence. It was difficult to get through the bushes but the light was closer and closer and it appeared as if it was moving. Will sneaked between the trees and the images of his last visit in the manor came to his mind. He followed old paths, lurking in the shadows, trying to maintain his presence a secret.

Finally, from behind a tree, Will saw a small patch of land covered only with grass, as if a hole in the woods. The first impression was that the forest split to make room for something. The place was surrounded by bushes and trees, and there was a familiar-looking fountain standing in the middle. Will spotted concentration of snails occupying the space designed for the water and recalled the last time he was there. The past mixed with the present once more.

With one discovery came another. The small field was occupied by hundreds if not thousands of flying insects which lit up the place. That, too, was an already familiar scene. The fireflies were moving in every possible direction and the sound of their wings resembled breathing. The sight was overwhelming; Will stood in place for a while, simply observing, mesmerised. The hypnotic dance of wild nature continued when footsteps approached. The sound was almost inaudible, which made it all the more obvious as to who was the person approaching.

“I used to come here when I was a child.” Will heard a familiar voice behind his back.

“It’s a perfect spot to see the sky clearly.”

For a moment, both men remained silent, just watching the fireflies performing their routine. Will smiled when he tried to imagine Hannibal as a young boy who looked for peace and isolation in the sole centre of nature. The vision suited the idea of him having been home-schooled.

“Did you use to come here with Mischa?” Will asked, glad he could learn more about Hannibal’s past and his family. A small glimpse he had been offered once was not enough. Nothing would ever be enough, Will suspected.

“Mostly during the day. I could never expose my sister to danger.”

As an only child, Will found Hannibal’s feelings for his sister strangely endearing. The concept of family had always felt to him like an ill-fitting suit. Even after marrying Molly and accepting Wally as his step-son, Will’s life was not fulfilling. It was satisfactory on many levels, especially with the FBI being left behind and the madness locked in a cell miles away. Will hoped the dead would no longer be able to touch him, and yet they did. The life Will led with Molly was only a substitution for something he was aware was out of reach.

Although there was no full moon that night, one particular memory emerged to the surface of Will's mind. As a former profiler and an FBI “special investigator,” he used to spend a lot of time in other people’s heads. It had been mildly satisfying, he pondered, to recreate the scenes of Dolarhyde’s moments of transformation – standing naked in a huge fenced backyard of a wealthy family, being covered in blood from head to toes after having transformed Mrs Jacobi and then, a lunar month later, Mrs Leeds. Francis would have loved the Lecter mansion – it offered ample privacy for the Dragon’s proclivities.

“You’re bleeding.” Hannibal pointed at Will’s neck where he had cut himself while shaving.

Blood. One of the elements that helped him in the process of his own transformation. Graham touched the spot under his chin, smearing the crimson fluid. It was warm – as a life-bringer should be, pumped constantly through the human body. The cut was just a tiny spot and the trickle of blood was gradually drying on the way down.

The calming sound of the fireflies’ wings fluttering continued, evoking a wide range of memories in Will. No matter how hard he tried to shake off the past, it would come back like a boomerang, although less and less clear each time. As the men were looking at the night sky, Will remembered the last time he was there, almost four years ago. He had come to the land which Hannibal never expected to visit again. And yet, here they were, watching the constellations above them.

“When you were in Florence, I looked up at the night sky here. Orion above the horizon and, near it, Jupiter. I wondered if you could see it, too. I wondered if our stars were the same.”

“I believe some of our stars will always be the same. You entered the foyer of my mind and stumbled down the hall of my beginnings.”

“Seeing you was different than seeing other killers.”

Lecter nodded in acknowledgement. They were past admitting that they were unique. Will liked to think about them in terms of two lonely chess champions who had been wandering the world looking for a suitable partner until, at last, they accidently met and found out they spoke the same language. The feeling of recognition was addictive and even after Will discovered who doctor Hannibal Lecter truly was, he found it arduous to let go of that feeling and of his friendship. As much as he hated to admit that at the time, Graham was the Bride of Frankenstein.

“What did you dream about?” Hannibal asked.

“Us.”

It was the short answer. The images of his nightmare came back to him and the sight before him turned into horror. The fireflies were no longer bright and calming but emitted an annoying, almost maddening noise. Their wings seemed to enlarge and transform, while their antennae turned into horns. Plenty of small insects transmogrified into the Great Red Dragon.

Will closed his eyes, hoping the vision would blur or disappear completely from his mind. It had been a few weeks since he and Hannibal crossed the border of Lithuania after spending over a month in Cuba, waiting for their wounds to heal. Graham imagined that the bad dreams would change direction in Lecter’s childhood home. He hoped to discover more about his partner in crime at the very least. The scenery must have influenced Hannibal’s dreams as well and Will believed he would share some of them with his beloved. His assumption was wrong.

“We were fighting against the Dragon again. As I drove the blade through him, his face changed. For the shortest moment he became Garrett Jacob Hobbs. I got a chance at killing him with my own hands. And I took it.”

The smile on Hannibal’s face was delightful. _That_ was all he had been fighting for. It was encouraging to see his effort pay off and see Will truly embrace his nature. With Hobbs being dead by Will’s hands, Graham would regain freedom of the mind.

“Did it feel good to close this chapter of your life?”

“It was only a dream.”

“Still, Garrett Jacob Hobbs is dead.”

It was true. Will pulled on the cuffs of his coat and tightened the strap around his waist. It was getting cold. Suddenly, Hannibal took a few steps and stood directly behind Will, offering the warmth of his body. Lecter put his hands on Will’s shoulders and leant forward.

“You were never like him. You were only ever yourself.” The utterance was a mere whisper which caused the hair on Will’s nape rise.

“Who would you say I am now?”

“The process of your becoming started with Hobbs and ended with the Dragon. You are now the truest version of yourself.”

That sounded right. Will had experienced his transformation already. There was no point in denying or discussing it anymore. Graham was handling the new situation he found himself in quite well on his own; Hannibal’s help with navigating it appeared unnecessary.

“Is that the version you love the most?”

The lack of immediate response surprised Will. He perceived Hannibal as someone who always had the right words and used them as skilfully as a knife in the kitchen. Will felt both proud that he could still render Lecter speechless and truly dissatisfied at the prospect of Hannibal being silent when he wanted answers.

“I’ve loved every version of you.” Lecter replied.

Will was only slightly taken aback by the confession, as he had been aware of unconditional aspect of Hannibal’s feelings. He knew Hannibal as a man who never told lies; the honesty, however veiled, was always present between them. That time, however, Will received a short explicit answer instead of the usual game of metaphors and allegories.

The closest to talking about love was when Will showed Hannibal the man in the basement, turned into a firefly. Graham confessed then that he hadn’t thought anyone would ever see his work, especially not Hannibal. It was the ultimate proof that Will had undergone transformation on his own merit.

The fireflies lighting up the area were an incredible sight but Will preferred to look at Lecter’s face at that moment. As he turned to face Hannibal and gasped as the man’s eyes widened and sparks of satisfaction appeared in them.

“Is this the final stage of your transformation?”

The scar on Will’s clean-shaven cheek was distinctly noticeable and he felt Hannibal’s gaze upon it. Indeed, that was the truest version of Will Graham. And there he was, with the man aware of the unreality of taking a life when there is no other choice; the man brave enough to win the fight against the most powerful of demons - his own.

In the blissful moment of satisfaction, Will felt a hand being placed on his right cheek, which brought back memories of all the times he’d done that. The gesture also reminded him of Bedelia’s words about the importance of touch and how it offered an emotional context. It had built trust in their complicated relationship. Still, the warm palm on Will’s cheek had never before felt so reassuring and affectionate.

“It’s the last stage of my Becoming – getting rid of the shame.”

Will noticed how Hannibal’s eyes fell to his lips for a second, before he placed a hand atop Lecter’s. The feeling of shame that had haunted Will did not refer only to the murder business he joined by Hannibal’s side. As they kept eye contact and their breaths mingled together, Will understood one thing very clearly – there were actually two sources of his radiance, one of which was Hannibal, however insane that might have sounded. Even if Will had contained his wrath within himself for the rest of his life, there was one thing he could never escape and that was his love for Hannibal. It was the issue that, despite Will’s admission by the edge of the cliff, remained unsolved until that night in the woods, lit up by the moon, the bright constellations of fate, and the swarm of fireflies.

Fireflies did not question their nature. Neither did Will, not anymore.

The sky resembled a black dress with millions of diamonds sewed onto it. The wind blew around the two men, making the branches of the trees hiss. Will felt the chill on his whole body and the goose bumps on his skin. The closeness of Hannibal’s body was not particularly helpful in that instance.

Will leant forward, slowly bringing their faces together. As if conscious of what was happening, Hannibal tilted his head to one side, allowing better access. The men’s lips met shortly in a quick peck. It seemed Will was only testing the water before taking the plunge. His eyes were open, while Lecter appeared lost in the moment of sheer bliss. The hand on Graham’s cheek moved gently, brushing the skin lovingly.

The second time, Will pressed his lips to Hannibal’s with more passion and it didn’t take long before their breaths mingled as the men fitted their mouths together. Despite the chilliness of the night, the warmth was spreading all over their bodies and the colour rising up to their ears. In the moment of passion, Will felt one of Hannibal’s fangs drag along his bottom lip and cut it. A trickle of blood did not seem to bother either of the men, as they continued their hungered frenzy.

A moment later, it was Graham who bit gently on Hannibal’s bottom lip with a proud smile and no remorse. Lecter’s eyes expressed immense satisfaction when he tasted his own blood. It was not a display of shamelessness but rather an invitation. The rest of the world disappeared for the shortest moment – the fireflies, the manor, the FBI looking for them in Cuba, where they were last seen. All that mattered was their embrace; blood and breath mixed together as elements that fuelled Will’s radiance.

“I don’t feel like going back to sleep.” Graham moaned right into Hannibal’s mouth.

“Afraid of any more dreams?”

“The reality is much better.”

Will was certain that his reasoning appealed to Hannibal. Even the brightest room in Lecter’s mind palace was engulfed in darkness in comparison to Will’s glow. It seemed ironic when the memories of his first encounters with Lecter came to his mind and he remembered how attached he had been to the physical safety that dreams offered him. They were the only place he would relinquish control. Ever since the case of Garrett Jacob Hobbs, it had been Hannibal who anchored Will in the reality and it appeared that it was the only thing that had not change over the years that passed.


End file.
